


at your service

by anirondack



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Dom/sub, Domestic, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Massage, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Post-Move To Russia, Service Sub Victor Nikiforov, Service Submission, Sub Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:19:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9607346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anirondack/pseuds/anirondack
Summary: “That felt really good,” Yuuri says as he shuts the television off on the second try. “Can you do the rest of me?”A Victor standing up, a Victor sitting on the couch next to Yuuri with a glass of wine in his hand or a dog in his lap, would have made a suggestive joke about that. But the Victor on his knees just nods, happy to have direction on how to best please Yuuri, and says, “Of course.”Five thousand words of service sub Victor, plus some sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [R.O.H.](https://www.wissota.com/learning-about-radius) means "radius of hollow" and references the hollow at the bottom of a figure skate blade. Blades have lower R.O.H.s for sharper edges and tight turns (but slower top speeds) and higher R.O.H.s for flatter edges and smoother skating and form (but more difficult stops). Most professional skaters have around a 5/8"-3/4" R.O.H on their blades, but Victor is The Best (TM) so probably has closer to 1" in my opinion because he's Extra.

The television yells at Yuuri, rapid-fire Russian that he has no hope of understanding. He picks up Victor’s remote and pokes at what he thinks is the settings button. A TV guide pops up and Yuuri can’t read any of it, and then it disappears and the volume cuts out and then cuts back in. Yuuri sighs and reaches down between his legs to tap the top of Victor’s head.

“Mmm?” Victor hums, looking up from Yuuri’s skate.

“Do you know how to use closed captioning?” Yuuri asks. He hands the remote down and Victor sets Yuuri’s skate on a towel and takes it.

“If you only read the news in English, you’ll never learn to understand Russian,” he tells Yuuri, but he dutifully prods at the remote until a menu comes up. Yuuri sees  _Английский_ pop up and then lines of white text start appearing at the bottom of the screen.

“If I don’t know what they’re supposed to be saying, I’ll never learn to understand Russian anyway,” he tells Victor and holds out his hand. Victor hands the remote back, then leans his head against Yuuri’s knee so that Yuuri will stroke his hair. Yuuri rolls his eyes a little and combs his fingers across Victor’s scalp a few times, then nudges Victor with his other foot. “Get back to it.”

Victor nods seriously, then picks up Yuuri’s skate again. There’s a small smudge on the towel from the polish he’s using that had rubbed off from the skate before it was ready, so he goes over it again. Yuuri’s right skate is already gleaming; it’s sitting off to the side, laces loosened and soft guard on, sharp and polished. The one in Victor’s hand now is half-shiny, dull on one side from some hard falls and a longer walk to the benches than in Hasetsu.

“Your blade sharpener used too wide of an R.O.H. for me yesterday,” Yuuri notes. His fingers tangle back in Victor’s hair, one finger stroking at the skin between Victor’s ear over and over. “They must think I’m you.”

“I don’t think so,” Victor says. “You skate much smoother than you used to, you don’t need such deep edges.”

“Deeper edges are better for correcting jump landings,” Yuuri reminds him.

“I know,” Victor agrees. “You don’t need the help.”

Yuuri flushes a little at that and leans down to kiss the top of Victor’s head. Victor makes a soft noise and immediately cranes his head up for another, but Yuuri has already settled back on the couch.

“I’ll get them resharpened tomorrow,” he decides. “They don’t feel right so shallow.”

Victor tilts his head, but says, “As you wish.” Yuuri’s nails scratch again and Victor purrs quietly, then goes back to Yuuri’s skate.

He finishes rubbing the boot with the polish, then buffs out any clumps with the towel. This boot shines now too, rivaling the one leaning against the wall; Victor’s skates need to be polished too, but Victor doesn’t take the same pleasure in polishing them as he does with Yuuri’s. Tomorrow, the polish will be dry and set and they can go to practice on freshly sharpened blades and Yuuri will be beautiful with how smooth his turns are. No one will be able to look away.

Victor unthreads Yuuri’s laces from the top three eyelets on each side, then gives the blade a quick wipe-down and fastens the soft cover over it. He slowly rises up off his knees, grimacing a little at his stiff joints, and picks up the other skate too so he can carry them over to the little basket they dry their skates in every night. His own are there, similarly undone and waiting to be cleaned, but Victor looks at them with mild contempt at how dull they are compared to Yuuri’s as he balances Yuuri’s on the soft towel and leans them to the side.

“I could replace your laces too,” he calls over to Yuuri. “You haven’t in a couple months.”

Yuuri’s head turns halfway so he can look at Victor out of one eye. “They’re fine for now. I’ll replace them soon. Maybe get some more interesting laces once we’ve settled on our costumes for next season.”

“Yes, Yuuri,” Victor agrees.

“Come back here, I miss you.”

Victor’s heart flutters a little and he immediately trots back over. He glances at the couch, then sinks back onto his knees at Yuuri’s feet and rolls up the towel and the rags to throw in the laundry later.

“I’m all done, then,” Victor tells Yuuri’s knee as he rests his forehead against it.

“Good boy,” Yuuri says indulgently. “Thank you, Victor.”

Victor preens quietly at the praise and turns his head a little to look at the news. They’ve moved past anything serious - there are lots of serious things on the news and Victor doesn’t like to watch them but Yuuri does for some reason - and are talking about local news now. The aftermath of Maslenitsa is still being felt around St. Petersburg, mostly in the pockets of the city municipal department, who has to clean up after the street parties and burnt scarecrows. Victor smiles a little and remembers going to one. Next year, he and Yuuri will be in the same city for Maslenitsa and they’ll be able to celebrate it together.

Yuuri’s leg shifts and Victor sits up a little, wondering if he’s standing up, but Yuuri just scoots over a little and places his feet in Victor’s lap. Victor smiles happily and immediately starts rubbing at Yuuri’s shins. He turns his eyes from the television to Yuuri’s bare feet, which are bruised badly on the tops from his imperfect quad flip form. Victor had run him through it over and over, until Yuuri was nailing it half the time and falling hard the other half and Yakov had shouted at him to try something else before they melted a Yuuri-shaped hole into the ice. Victor feels a brief flash of guilt and he takes one of Yuuri’s feet in his hands and starts delicately rubbing at the arch.

“Ohh,” Yuuri breathes. Victor feels proud of himself for having been the cause of that sound. “That feels nice, do that.”

“Yes, Yuuri,” Victor says. He bows his head a little as he works his thumb along Yuuri’s arch. Yuuri, like all skaters, has worn, rough feet, and they’re not very pretty but they are very strong. He digs his thumb into callouses and brushes his fingertips over the puffy bits. Those bits are the sorest and Victor can feel Yuuri trying not to flinch, so he eases up. Yuuri relaxes and Victor does too; tension in Yuuri’s body often transfers itself to Victor’s as soon as he notices it.

Victor massages every part of Yuuri’s foot (except for the place where his toes meet his foot, because Yuuri is ticklish there), then leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of it. He feels a hand run over his head once, gentle, and trace down to his jaw, and then Yuuri pulls that foot away and holds up the other one. Victor takes that one too and happily gives it the same treatment.

When he’s done, he kisses that foot too and carefully lowers it back into his lap. When he looks up, Yuuri’s eyes are closed and his face looks quietly blissful. There’s a soft twist of warmth in Victor’s chest that only intensifies when Yuuri opens his eyes and gives him that soft, soft, warm smile that he reserves only for Victor now.

“Thank you, Victor, that felt really nice,” he tells Victor, and Victor’s eyes flutter shut for a moment. He wraps the praise up inside himself and carefully tucks it away; his hoard is large, but it keeps him balanced. Yuuri always keeps him balanced.

“Can I do anything else for you?” Victor asks eagerly. They’re both tired, Victor moreso but unwilling to complain about it, and Yuuri is always sore and tense after practicing at their new home rink. Victor knows he just hasn’t settled into it yet, and he’s not surprised. Yuuri has only been skating there for a couple of months, and it’s usually full of other people. They try to stick to one side of the rink and only venture away from it to work on longer step sequences and jump combinations. Victor knows Yuuri feels a little trapped like that, but they don’t have the wide open space of Ice Castle’s whole rink now, and it’s better than running into a novice mid-jump and falling.

Yuuri opens his eyes and rolls his head to the side a little, considering Victor. Victor sits back on his heels, hands resting in his lap, and meets his gaze. Whatever Yuuri sees in it, he must like, because he sits up and stretches and reaches for the remote again. “That felt really good,” he says as he shuts the television off on the second try. “Can you do the rest of me?”

A Victor standing up, a Victor sitting on the couch next to Yuuri with a glass of wine in his hand or a dog in his lap, would have made a suggestive joke about that. But the Victor on his knees just nods, happy to have direction on how to best please Yuuri, and says, “Of course.”

“Good,” Yuuri says warmly. He moves the remote and his phone over to a side table and tugs his shirt up off over his head, dropping it on the floor next to Victor. He’s much less self conscious about doing things like that now. Victor loves it.

“There’s some massage oil in the bathroom,” Victor suggests. “Would you like that?”

Yuuri’s eyes light up a little. “That’s a good idea, Victor. Thank you for thinking of it.”

Victor ducks his head a little to hide his smile. “I’ll go get it.”

“Good boy.”

A slow shiver rolls down Victor’s spine and settles in his stomach. “You should go to the bedroom instead. You can lie down there.”

Yuuri thinks about it for a second, then nods. “I’ll go chase Makkachin off.”

Victor chuckles and stands up again. Yuuri holds out his hand and their fingers brush together as Victor passes. Yuuri gets in a quick squeeze, and then lets him go, and Victor floats off to the bathroom to dig through his medicine cabinet. There are three different types of massage oils in there, and two partially used bottles of lube, which Yuuri finds embarrassing and Victor finds amusing. He picks out a soft sandalwood oil, which he knows Yuuri likes because it’s not very strong, and warms it under a tap for a minute before turning the light off in the bathroom and slipping into the bedroom.

Yuuri is on his back, phone held up only a few inches above him, squinting because his glasses are on Victor’s bedside table. Victor leans in the doorway and smiles as he watches him, then closes the door so that Makkachin doesn’t get back in and comes over to the bed. Yuuri looks up, then turns his phone off and tosses it in the direction of his pillow. Victor comes up to the side of the bed and holds out the little bottle and Yuuri takes it and inspects it, then gifts Victor with another bright smile. “Good choice.”

Victor mirrors his smile and takes it back, rolling it between his hands. Yuuri reaches down and undoes the ties of his sweatpants and kicks them off so that he’s only in his boxers - which are actually Victor’s boxers - and rolls onto his stomach. He grabs a pillow to stuff under his head, and then holds his hand out to Victor. “Come here.”

Victor crawls up onto the bed immediately and settles on his knees by Yuuri’s side. Yuuri reaches up and cups Victor’s cheek and Victor leans into it immediately. Yuuri pulls him down and kisses him softly and every part of Victor melts. Another soft sound slips out of his throat and the fingers on his cheek press in a little more.

“You’re so good,” Yuuri says when he breaks them apart. “I love how good you are for me.”

Victor’s heart trips and races at the gentle, genuine look of adoration on Yuuri’s face. Yuuri is good at ordering him around, and he loves Victor enough to do it. Victor will spend all day on his knees if that’s what Yuuri wants, and Yuuri will make him, because that’s what Victor wants.

“What parts are tense?” Victor asks quietly. He reaches out with his free hand and runs it down Yuuri’s back, resting at the waistband of his underwear, thumb moving in a slow circle.

“My thighs and my back hurt the most,” Yuuri says. “But I want you to touch me everywhere.”

“Oh,” Victor breathes. “Okay. Where should I start?”

“Mm. Calves.” Yuuri wiggles one foot. “Work your way up.”

“Yes, Yuuri.” Yuuri gives him that smile again, the one that washes away everything that’s not following direction, and he kisses Victor again, then flops back onto his pillow. Victor basks for a moment, then shuffles down the bed to Yuuri’s feet. He winces at the arches - they look more sore than usual. Maybe Yuuri is right about his blade R.O.H. He would know better than Victor does.

Victor drips a bit of the oil onto his palms and rubs them together, making sure they’re warm before he touches Yuuri. He sits crosslegged with Yuuri’s foot in his lap, then starts rubbing his palms along the strong muscle of Yuuri’s calf. Yuuri groans loudly and jams his face into the pillow, but it isn’t enough to muffle the sounds of pleasure entirely, and he’s not really trying to. Victor breathes them in anyway, pleasure of his own lighting him up as he works over Yuuri’s leg. The muscles are very tense, but slowly, Yuuri starts to unravel for him, and Victor knows few satisfactions like getting Yuuri to relax for him.

He does the same for Yuuri’s other calf, then spreads Yuuri’s legs a little so that he can sit between them. Yuuri shuffles back a little for him and Victor sits facing sideways and pulls Yuuri’s leg into his lap so it’s draped across his own thighs. Yuuri’s thighs are thick and muscular and strong and Victor loves them desperately, no matter how much Yuuri doesn’t. He curves his hand around the one in his lap and starts working at the front of them, which earns another loud moan like a present just for him.

“Yuuri,” Victor murmurs, though he doesn’t stop rubbing Yuuri’s muscles down.

“Nnng?”

“Yuuri, you’re very beautiful.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, muffled by the pillow. Victor glances up. The back of Yuuri’s neck is pink.

“I love being able to touch you,” Victor adds.

“Oh,” Yuuri says again. “Well, good. You can do it whenever you want.”

“I intend to.” Victor leans down again and nuzzles the crease of Yuuri’s thigh, along where it meets his body, and then goes back to work.

He rubs down Yuuri’s whole thigh, and then the other one too, and Yuuri is a puddled mess of a man once Victor straddles his hips to get at his lower back. The whole room smells faintly of wood and some sort of herb now. It makes Victor feel a little sleepy, and it makes Yuuri a lot more relaxed, because when Victor starts rubbing at the small of Yuuri’s back, the muscles have almost completely unwound themselves. Yuuri makes a pleased noise anyway and arches his back a little and Victor swallows as he watches Yuuri’s body move.

Yuuri’s shoulders are a wreck, like always, but Victor is patient and diligent and he unravels them too. Yuuri digs his teeth into the pillow as he grunts in pain, and if it were anywhere else, Victor would pause, to make sure he’s okay. But Yuuri needs a firm touch for his upper back and he always has and Victor will give him that if that’s what he needs.

He has to bodily flip Yuuri over because Yuuri’s certainly not going to do it himself, but the look that Yuuri gives him when he’s face up again, all soft lines and love and pleasure, is worth everything Victor has ever done for him. Yuuri holds his arms out and Victor drops into them immediately and Yuuri hugs him tightly, burying his face in Victor’s hair. A moan grows in Victor’s chest, stoked by the feeling of Yuuri’s bare skin, and it escapes because he knows it’s okay around Yuuri. Yuuri hums in response and spends a minute layering soft kisses all over Victor’s hair and forehead before he nudges him upright.

“Will you do my chest too?” he asks. “My sides are sore from takeoffs. Well, mostly the right one, but I don’t want to be too unbalanced.”

“Of course,” Victor says immediately. He fumbles for the oil and drops a bit straight onto Yuuri’s skin, then sits on his thighs and slowly rubs it around. Yuuri’s eyes close immediately and Victor is treated to a look of pure, pleased, comfortable relaxation. His blood burns with it.

He spends a long time just running his hands over Yuuri’s chest, but Yuuri doesn’t mind. One hand rests on Victor’s thigh, thumb toying with a bit of leg hair, never letting contact be broken between them. They’re quiet together, and Victor is almost unwilling to break the spell, but Yuuri had asked him to do his chest too, so he will. He presses in with his palms and pushes outward to the sides, smoothing the muscles out and down toward Yuuri’s hips. Yuuri groans softly and moves the arm that’s not petting Victor to the side so that Victor has more room to work. Victor smiles a little and shifts his palms down to Yuuri’s side, rubbing down the muscles over Yuuri’s ribs. They shift under his touch and he can feel how tense they are; the motions skaters make to lift off the ground tends to pull at them a lot. Yuuri moans loudly again, but this time with no pillow to muffle it, Victor gets to enjoy the whole thing as it wraps around him and fills the air.

He spends a long time on Yuuri’s chest, because Yuuri needs it and because Victor loves watching him. Yuuri’s face is untroubled, save for when Victor finds a particularly tight cord of muscle, and he never stops touching whatever part of Victor he can reach. When Victor switches sides to get to Yuuri’s left, Yuuri just flops his arm over his head and curls the other hand around Victor’s shin, pressing in lightly with his fingers. It makes Victor feel settled, which is good; the pleasure of pleasing Yuuri sometimes makes him feel like he’s floating away.

Yuuri’s groans slowly turn into soft sighs, and that’s when Victor knows that he can stop. He goes back to rubbing Yuuri’s chest, and then wiggles in between Yuuri’s legs so that he can pillow his head on Yuuri’s belly. He nuzzles at a bit of hair there and kisses a stretch mark and Yuuri’s hand comes to rest in his hair.

“That was perfect, Victor,” Yuuri murmurs. His eyes are soft slits as they look down at Victor. “You were perfect.”

Victor glows and rubs his cheek against Yuuri’s belly. “You’re perfect.”

Yuuri blushes a little, but he still smiles. “I think that’s you. My perfect Victor.”

“My Yuuri.” Victor’s hand traces little lines around Yuuri’s side, choreographed patterns that he sees in his sleep. He shimmies a little lower to nose at Yuuri’s hip and Yuuri’s responding moan is softer, but with a little more of an edge to it.

“Victor.”

“Yuuri,” Victor replies. He presses his face into the space next to Yuuri’s hip bone and breathes in deeply. Yuuri smells like wood and spice and faint musk and Victor’s shower gel. It makes Victor feel possessively giddy. “Let me pleasure you here too?”

“Victor…” Yuuri murmurs again. The hand in Victor’s hair stills a little, and then keeps stroking. “You don’t have to.”

“I’d like to,” Victor says. “Can I?”

He presses his lips to Yuuri’s hip, and then again, more sloppy this time. Yuuri is not unaffected.

“I don’t know…” Yuuri says, but it’s quietly teasing. “I’m not sure I can move after that magic you worked.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Victor promises. “I’ll do all the work.”

“You’re so good to me,” Yuuri says. “Go on.”

Victor brightens a little. He regretfully draws away from Yuuri’s touch and climbs off the bed, taking the massage oil with him, and swaps it out for lube in the bathroom. He considers warming that up too, but he doesn’t want to be away from Yuuri for that long, so he tucks it under his arm and comes back to the bedroom immediately instead.

Yuuri looks to be one with the bed now, but he beams at Victor when he comes back. Victor beams back and takes his place between Yuuri’s legs again. Yuuri shifts one knee up, foot planted on the bed. “You can take these off.”

“Yes, Yuuri.” Victor hooks his fingers in the waistband of Yuuri’s underwear and drags them off, throwing them in the direction of the hamper. (Even as blissed out and willing to please as he is now, Victor is still awful at putting things in the laundry.) Yuuri’s legs splay out to the sides a little and Victor curses quietly under his breath; no matter how many times he sees Yuuri naked, Yuuri never stops being overwhelmingly beautiful. He reaches out and strokes Yuuri’s cock, which is still pretty soft but doesn’t look like it’s going to be staying that way. Yuuri hums and bends the other leg up so both knees are bent and Victor lies down on his stomach, putting him face to face with Yuuri’s cock.

He takes it in hand, just feeling it at first. Yuuri has very soft skin and Victor likes to touch all of it, but especially here. His palm glides along the shaft, only dragging the tiniest bit, and up to the head to tug gently at Yuuri’s foreskin. Yuuri makes a sort of swallowed down groaning noise that Victor desperately wants for himself, so he does it a few more times, until he can definitely feel Yuuri hardening up in his hand.

He strokes Yuuri for a little while after, but then leans in and presses a soft kiss to the base of Yuuri’s cock, just over his balls. Yuuri lets out a little breath, and then a real moan, and Victor snatches at it immediately, kissing over the same spot with a wet, open mouth. “Ah, Victor…” drifts over his head and Victor takes that too. He mouths all along Yuuri’s cock, coaxing it harder and harder, and when he gets to the top, he delicately takes the head into his mouth and relishes the feeling of the weight on his tongue.

“Victor, God…” Yuuri moans quietly. His hand tangles in Victor’s hair again and Victor is unable to keep himself from pressing into it. Yuuri doesn’t push down yet, though, just cradles Victor’s face like something precious, and Victor aches inside with how gentle Yuuri can be with him.

He starts bobbing his head slowly, taking his time. Yuuri isn’t rushed so Victor isn’t either, and he can enjoy the taste of Yuuri’s skin, the way the smell of him shifts from shower gel to musk and light sweat. He teases a little bit with his tongue along the slit of Yuuri’s cock, but then passes it by again, and Yuuri’s thighs shake on either side of his shoulders.

He sucks lightly for a while, and then moves his arm to let the lube fall onto the bed. Yuuri glances down and tilts his head a little. His eyes are dark and his mouth is slack and there’s a little bit of sweat beading around his hair. “What’s that?”

“Lube,” Victor says around Yuuri’s cock, and then says it again once he sits up. “Lube.”

“For you?” Yuuri asks.

“For you,” Victor replies. “I thought I might finger you as well.”

Yuuri grins lazily. “You indulge me so.” He runs his hand through his hair, which pushes it up off his forehead and makes him look like the sleepy, soft version of Eros. It’s Victor’s favorite.

“You know I do.” Victor pops the cap of the little lube bottle with his teeth, then drips too much onto his hand. He nudges it closed with his chin and tosses it to the side, on the other side of Yuuri’s knee, then starts brushing his fingertips up and down along the cleft of Yuuri’s ass. He feels Yuuri tense up and then relax again with his whole body - his legs fall more to the sides, showing off his flexibility, and he presses down against Victor a little. Victor keeps his touches light and Yuuri bears down a little for him and suddenly, Yuuri’s body is opening for him, eagerly waiting. Victor turns his hand over and eases one finger in to the first knuckle and glances up, but Yuuri looks blissed out, even though Victor’s barely done anything to him yet.

He opens Yuuri up slowly, half an inch forward and a quarter inch back, over and over. Yuuri suggests more lube, even though he doesn’t really need it yet, but it makes the whole thing slippery and indulgent and Victor can see the appeal. If the lube was flavored, he would be tempted to forgo the whole thing and bury his face in Yuuri’s ass, but Yuuri loves being fingered more than most anything Victor does to him, and Victor loves making Yuuri happy more than most anything in the world.

Eventually, he’s able to sink one finger in all the way to his knuckles. Yuuri sighs above him and rocks his hips down a little. The hand in Victor’s hair is still but squeezing a little. Victor’s skin feels hot and tight and Yuuri’s cock is leaking a little where it lies against Yuuri’s thigh. Victor needs to taste it, so he does.

“Oh, Victor, fuck,” Yuuri stammers out. His free hand darts to the bed to grip the sheet they’re on top of. “Victor. Victor–”

Victor never tires of hearing his name in that tone.

He works on swallowing Yuuri down, deeper and deeper, to try to distract him from a second finger being introduced, but Yuuri never wants to miss the stretch. He moans, teeth digging into his lip, and then again at full volume when Victor sucks at him. Victor doesn’t twist or flex his fingers because he doesn’t need to; he just rocks his fingers back and forth, in tiny steps - tiny steps, more lube, tiny steps and tinier pulls back, until his middle finger is buried in Yuuri too. Yuuri’s back is arched a little and his skin is damp with sweat where it presses against Victor, so Victor turns and licks at Yuuri’s thigh to taste it. Yuuri squirms a little and grinds himself down and twists his hips in a way that is supposed to be insistent but just ends up being charming.

“Victor…” Yuuri whines.

“Yes, my love,” Victor murmurs against Yuuri’s thigh.

Yuuri shivers a little and the hand in Victor’s hair tightens. “Don’t stop sucking me.”

The order settles in Victor’s belly, warming him inside out, and he turns and sucks Yuuri’s cock back into his mouth. Yuuri’s hand pushes him down until Victor is where Yuuri wants him to be, and then he goes back to gentle petting. Victor’s eyes fall closed for a moment, but then open again, because he needs to see Yuuri.

He keeps his sucking light as he curls his fingers up and out and back again. Yuuri becomes a mess nearly instantly with pressure in the right place, and Victor hunts for it with the same precision he applies to skating. He brushes past nerves, and then back over them, and then Yuuri’s cock is twitching in his mouth and Yuuri is gasping his name and bucking his hips up hard. Victor holds his breath and tries not to choke until Yuuri settles down, and then he does it again and Yuuri nearly shouts.

He keeps his fingers gentle but insistent, stroking over that spot over and over without hammering into it. Yuuri’s shouts turn to moans, curse words and Victor’s own name, his head tossing from side to side as sensation overwhelms him. Victor barely has to do anything with his mouth other than keep just jaw slack, because Yuuri is rutting up into his mouth, leaking precome on his tongue and making him swallow the taste down so that it fills as many senses as possible. Yuuri undoes himself on Victor, riding his hand and barely stopping short of fucking into Victor’s throat, but Victor would never mind if he did. He can kill his gag reflex for Yuuri.

Yuuri’s moans have whines attached now, and Japanese words that Victor doesn’t understand. He never remembers them to look them up later, so blissful in pleasing Yuuri that everything else fades to the background, but they sound promising and Victor always wants to hear more of them. But he likes hearing his name the best, likes knowing that it’s him who brings Yuuri so much pleasure, and Yuuri does not disappoint. Victor’s name is every other word on Yuuri’s lips, and sometimes the only intelligible word of any of it, and that’s okay. It’s wonderful. Victor dreams of the times when the only word Yuuri knows is his name.

Yuuri’s chants of _Victor Victor Victor_ take on a warning tone, and his thighs clamp tighter around Victor’s head. Victor regrets how they muffle his ears, but his eyes are enough to tell him that Yuuri’s about to fall over the edge. He rubs more firmly against Yuuri’s prostate and works his tongue against the underside of Yuuri’s cock and Yuuri shouts his name again, a time and a half, _"_ _Victor! Vic–!_ _”_ , and then his hips stutter and buck and he floods Victor’s mouth and ears and vision and every other sense he has. Victor swallows several times, and gives a few more soft sucks to wring as much pleasure out of Yuuri as he can, and then slowly pulls his head off, guiding Yuuri’s cock to rest on his belly. Yuuri is panting hard, one arm thrown over his eyes, flushed all the way down to his chest, and his thighs are still trembling, even as they release Victor. Victor delicately pulls his fingers out, kissing Yuuri’s hip in apology when Yuuri hisses, and then wipes his hand on his sweatpants.

“Victor,” Yuuri mumbles. Victor glances up, and Yuuri’s hand is reaching for him. “Come up.” Victor crawls up Yuuri’s body and tucks himself into Yuuri’s side. Yuuri’s arms around him feel like bliss, and his voice even more when he murmurs, “You’re incredible.”

Victor hums happily and buries his face in Yuuri’s neck.

“D’you want me to take care of you?” Yuuri asks, running one hand down to Victor’s hip and squeezing.

“You do already,” Victor murmurs. Now that he knows that Yuuri’s happy, all he really wants is for Yuuri to hold him. And fortunately, that’s always something that Yuuri really wants too.


End file.
